anybody’s color, but it was the printer’s cheapest option.” Still grinning, he adds, “Besides, you might be selling yourself short. I’ll see you Monday, Prudence.”
I smile and wave goodbye.
Despite these volunteer shirts being really ugly, I cradle the dumb thing to my chest the whole walk home.
TWENTY-ONE
I’m on a roll, outlining a new section for our revised biology project: educational snorkeling classes for tourists! Guests would go out snorkeling with a trained professional who could tell them what fish and animals they were looking at, and explain the delicate balance of our shallow water ecosystems. The guide would discuss things like—
A screech of a violin invades my ears. I cry out in surprise and cover my ears with both hands.
“Penny!” I yell to the next bedroom.
“Sorry!” she yells back, though her apology is quickly followed by another squeal from the strings.
Sighing, I get up and close my bedroom door. Returning to my bed, I pull my computer back on my lap, doing my best to ignore the painful sounds from the next room. Why on earth are my parents still paying for her to take lessons? Clearly they’re not doing any good, and I’m sure they have better things to spend their limited funds on.
Okay. Where was I?
The guide would discuss things like … right. The natural food chain and the importance of biodiversity. How predators like sea otters help keep the sea urchin population under control, which prevents the sea urchins from overfeeding on kelp, which then can provide food and shelter for many other species. There are larger environmental factors to—
My bedroom door swings open, admitting not just the earsplitting squeaks of Penny’s violin, but also Eleanor, dressed in her favorite llama pajamas.
“Ellie, you’re supposed to knock!”
“Will you come play with me?”
“No. I’m busy. Shut the door.”
Her lower lip juts out. “But no one will play with me. Penny is practicing her violin and Lucy is on the phone and Mom is watching that dumb baking show again.”
“None of this is my problem. Go talk to Jude.”
“He went with Dad to get dinner.”
I groan and get out of bed. Ellie’s face lights up, but she deflates as soon as I grab her by the shoulder and steer her back out the door. “Self-sufficiency is an important skill that you need to start developing.”
She makes a frustrated sound and stomps her foot. “What does that even mean?”
“It means, go play with your dolls.”
“Jude always says yes, and you always say no!”
“Well, I guess Jude is just a nicer person than I am.”
I shut the door. She yells from the other side, “Yes he is!”
I mime strangling her, then throw my hands into the air. I consider taping a DO NOT DISTURB sign to it, but … whatever. She can’t read yet.
I go back to the report and scan over the last paragraph. Not bad. Moving on.
I vaguely remember Mr. Chavez saying something about how marine plants like kelp and seaweed are more effective at cleaning our air pollution than all the rain forests of the world. But I don’t remember the specifics, or how it works.
I open up the internet and start to type in a search query.
Angry footsteps storm down the hallway, then Lucy yells from right outside my door. “MOM! Would you make Ellie go downstairs? I’m trying to have a conversation and she won’t stop bothering me!”
“I’m folding clothes and watching my show!” Mom yells back. “Just let her play with your makeup or something!”
“What? No! She makes a mess!”
I flop down on my back and pull a pillow over my head.
Quint was so wrong. Siblings are the worst. My life would be infinitely better if it were just me and Jude.
Outside my door, the violin continues to screech. Lucy is still yelling. Ellie has started to cry—one of her fake tantrum cries that grate on every nerve.
My fingers twitch. I could punish the whole lot of them. For being so rude, so inconsiderate, so loud.
But just before my fingers close into a fist, I pause and force myself to stretch my hand out wide instead. What if, by trying to punish my whole family at once for their barbarity, the universe decides to burn our house down or something?
Grumbling, I climb out of bed and go searching for my noise-canceling headphones. I check my desk, the drawers, my book bag. They’re not in any of the places I usually put them.
I huff, knowing exactly who has them.
The hallway has been deserted. I shut the door